


So Dangerous To Know

by iamisaac



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/M, dub-con
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-03
Updated: 2015-01-03
Packaged: 2018-03-05 03:20:42
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,691
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3103625
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/iamisaac/pseuds/iamisaac
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Lucius shouldn't be with Bella. He doesn't even want to be with Bella. He just can't help himself.</p>
            </blockquote>





	So Dangerous To Know

_**Harry Potter [Bella/Lucius] R**_  
 **Title:** So Dangerous To Know  
 **Prompt:** "Never has a woman been so beautiful, so exotic, so dangerous to know!"  
 **Rating:** R  
 **Pairing(s)/Character(s):** Bella/Lucius  
 **Word count and/or medium used:** ~1500  
 **Disclaimer:** Harry Potter characters are the property of J.K. Rowling and Bloomsbury/Scholastic. No profit is being made, and no copyright infringement is intended.  
 **Summary:** Lucius shouldn't be with Bella. He doesn't even want to be with Bella. He just can't help himself.  
 **A/N:** I'm sorry that I avoided any of the 'optional extras', prompter, but the quotation had Bella written all over it, and I couldn't help myself... Thanks to YKW.

  
He hates everything about her. Everything. Her family (soon to be _his_ family), her smile, her vicious hatred and her shameless amorality. He hates the fact that he wants her and she knows it; that she will make use of him whenever she chooses. He hates that he will never be enough for her. Never has a woman been so beautiful, so exotic... so dangerous to know.

He is engaged to her sister. To her _sister_. She knows it as well as he, but she won't let it stop her. It is she who is betraying Narcissa, not Lucius. Not _just_ Lucius.

“Are you having second thoughts?” she purrs, running a fingernail down the side of his face, just harder than is comfortable.

He takes a breath. “Yes.”

The word costs him all he has, but she just laughs, and kisses him, her long dark hair tickling the side of his neck. “Then leave, Lucius. Leave. I do not hold you here by force.”

She knows he will not. He knows he will not. He knows she knows.

“Yes,” he says again; but he does not move.

“Yes,” she mocks him, and this time instead of a kiss, it is a bite; he feels her teeth puncture his bottom lip, then a strange, strange feeling as she sucks on it as a baby might suckle a mother's breast. He is light-headed, bewildered: part of him wonders what she is doing, whilst another is drowning in the feeling, surrendering himself to her as she laps his blood. She will devour him, will Bella, and he will welcome it.

When she lets go, the wound is still bleeding – a strange, metallic taste in his mouth mingled with her scent, her taste. For a moment he feels alone, rejected; but Bella is still there, still in the bed he will share with Narcissa. He is overwhelmed by gratefulness that she should be here with him, that she should have chosen him as her prey.

Oh, he has no doubt that she is the predator, he her prey. He has only to submit to her, this she-devil sister of his betrothed. But not too easily, no. She is like a cat: she wants to play with her catch before destroying it. She will grow bored quickly if he is too subservient. He must hold his own, when all he really wants is to beg “Please, Bella; now, Bella.”

Instead, he says, “Did you have to bite?”

Her witching, bewitching smile. She runs a hand through a rough tangle of dark curls, pushing them back behind her shoulder. “I like to mar the perfect Lucius Malfoy.” Her eyes are dark, but hooded; he is never sure what she is thinking. “You are perfect, you know, in my parents' eyes. Rich, handsome, well-bred – for one who is not a Black. 'Narcissa will be so happy'.”

He looks away. He knows what they are doing is wrong, but he tries to forget it. Bellatrix will not allow that. She forces him to face the facts, to know that he is betraying his to-be-wife on so many levels. She likes him to remember – and stay anyway.

“Don't you care about your sister?” he asks, his voice low.

Bella smiles – a faraway, blissful smile. “Yes,” she says, “and no.” A very Bellatrix answer. “Do you?”

Lucius pictures Narcissa in his mind. Sweetness, where Bella is bitter. Golden rather than black. Proud and confident, yes – but without Bella's ruthlessness, without her fire.

“I love her.”

And now Bellatrix laughs. “Do you? Do you really? How sweet.” She leans in and kisses him again, hard and passionate. And Lucius groans and falls into her kiss, into her grasp, wanting her, wanting more, wanting to do anything she asks of him. “Are you hard?” she asks, still laughing. “Are you hard for me?”

“You know I am.” The words are dragged unwillingly from him.

“Not hard enough,” she says. “Not yet.” She pushes him away. “Undress for me, Lucius.”

It is as if the sound of her saying his name is a spell. He can do nothing but what she asks. He strips his robes off without a second's thought, feeling the heat of her eyes as she watches. He does not flatter himself that he is anything special to her. She could have any man she wished; indeed, she probably has. He is but a new conquest, a brief entertainment to her. And she to him? She is heaven and hell, wrapped in the same body. She is all he's ever wanted, and all he fears most. And she knows it.

“Good boy,” she says, her tone mocking, but more gentle than he is used to. “Do you want to undress me?”

He shakes his head, uncertain as to why he refuses. It is as if he fears what he will see, fears what will happen. But at the same time, there is nothing he desires more than to see her naked. Unless it is to touch her naked body.

“You do it.” He is surprised by his own voice, as if the words were put into his mouth by another person. “You undress for me, Bellatrix.”

Her eyes open wide; dark eyebrows disappear beneath her fringe. He has surprised her: a little jolt of pleasure flows through him at that knowledge.

“Very well.”

She slides off the bed to stand on the floor in front of him. Before she touches her clothes, she runs her hands through ever unruly hair, pushing it back over her shoulders as if to make certain that it does not block the view of her body as she uncovers it. She does not touch the buttons of her robe, instead unfastening them with unspoken magic which reminds Lucius once again what a powerful witch she is. Sometimes he wonders that he dare be in the same room as her, let alone... more.

“Do you fear me, Lucius?” she asks, her robes pooling round her feet as if they have melted from her body.

“No,” he says, meaning 'yes'.

“You will,” she promises.

“I believe you.” He does not mean to say those words aloud; they just slip from his tongue.

Bella laughs, and slips back onto the bed. “Come to me, then, Lucius Malfoy. Show me what you have to offer. _I_ am not afraid.”

He wonders whether she means to taunt him as a coward. There are so many other names he calls himself, but that has not been one. Perhaps she is right, however: perhaps beside adulterer, traitor, weak, he should add coward. Then he raises his chin. He is a Malfoy, whatever else he may be. She shall not have the pleasure of shaming him.

“Very well.”

He does not kiss her. Narcissa, his fiancée, gets his kisses. He will not kiss Bellatrix, though he may respond to hers. Instead, he runs one finger down her arm, from shoulder to wrist, hovering over her pulse point with a caress so gentle she must hardly feel it. And yet she shivers. Just for a second, she shivers, and Lucius can think _I did that_.

But that is the limit of her submission. She bends her hand forward to grab at his, pulling him down onto the bed and rolling on top of him. Her eyes are burning hot darkness, her face almost feral.

“You are mine,” she hisses, lips drawn back to show white, pointed teeth. “Mine.”

He opens his mouth to deny it, but she lowers her mouth to his, capturing his words before they can be spoken. She is fire and domination and cruelty, and he responds to these as if they were the very air he breathes. He reaches out his hands, one moving to her breast and the other twisting through the thick hair which shadows her face.

“No,” he pants as she jerks her head away.

“ _Yes_ ,” she corrects him, moving so that her fingers caress his erection, positioning herself before impaling herself on his hard length.

He hears the groan before he realises that he is the one who made it. Sheathed in Bella's depths, he can do nothing but obey her, obey the demands of his body. He meets her thrust for thrust, and her manic laughter becomes breathless, becomes gasps as they both reach for that moment of ecstasy. He comes first, and she follows as if she were just waiting for him to submit before finding her own peak. Then she lies, sweaty, messy and desirable (still) across his chest as they both remember how to breathe.

Moments, or hours, later he feels the ripple of a spell against his skin. He wonders whether it is the Imperius; wonders if he cares. And then she speaks.

“You will do as I ask – take the vow?” she asks, her words, like Bella herself, beautiful and terrible.

“Yes.” He knows what she means. She has asked him before. And even as he says the word, he knows the promise will haunt him. Just as he will be haunted by the thought of Bellatrix, every time he lies with his wife. He knows that Bella will keep him to his vow; that this is a step, once taken, which cannot be undone.

“You'll do it for me,” she whispers, her words hot against his ear. “You'll do it for me. But you'll stay for Him.”

Lucius does it for her. And he stays – for her.


End file.
